


On the outside, always looking in

by bonotje



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Jacque Pastor (Original Character), M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-07 16:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20820167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonotje/pseuds/bonotje
Summary: Their voices are muffled by the still closed door, but he can clearly make out two young gentlemen on the other side of it, one of them he knows as Max Verstappen, owner of apartment 6A. He’s never seen the brown haired man with Max before though, the young man usually only accompanied by his family, manager or personal trainer.Or the progression of Max and Charles' relationship through someone else's eyes.





	On the outside, always looking in

**Author's Note:**

> This idea kinda was born out of me wanting to read more outsider POV fic, instead I just wrote one myself. Hope you guys like this slightly different take. 
> 
> This wasn't specifically written for Max's birthday at first, but then I wrote the last part and it just really fit as a nice conclusion, so this is for Max's birthday I guess?
> 
> Title is from Waving Through a Window from the Broadway musical Dear Evan Hansen.

Jacque Pastor was staring at the little clock at the bottom of his computer screen  _ 23.15 _ it read, another 45 minutes and his shift would finally be over. The apartment complex had been quiet today, a few people coming and going, a package delivered for apartment 4B, but other than that Jacque had been counting down the minutes on the digital clock. He sighs, he just wanted to be home, maybe drink a glass of wine with Marie if she was still awake and then head to bed to fall asleep to the TV playing in the background. He may only be 55, but these night shifts always exhausted him so much more than the normal day shifts. He sighs again and clicks open another game of solitaire on the computer.

He’s just started another round of the game when he can all of a sudden hear shouting. Their voices are muffled by the still closed door, but he can clearly make out two young gentlemen on the other side of it, one of them he knows as Max Verstappen, owner of apartment 6A. He’s never seen the brown haired man with Max before though, the young man usually only accompanied by his family, manager or personal trainer. He doesn’t really know any of them aside from Jake, the tall man the only one to start a conversation with him now and then, often when he’s waiting for Max to come down in his running gear. 

This young man he’s never seen here before though, the angry scowl on his face mirrored on Max’s face. He’s just starting to wonder whether he should go and interfere, not wanting a proper fight to start, when Max pushes the door open. “Go home Charles.” Is all he says, shaking his head a little as he pulls his suitcase in along with him. He gives Jacque a small little nod, not seeming fazed by Jacque's wide eyes at all, and heads towards the elevator. The brown haired man, Charles, is left outside, alone. Jacque can see him run his hands through his hair in frustration, clearly not happy with how the argument had ended, but eventually he goes to leave, grabbing his own suitcase along with him. 

He looks back at the clock,  _ 23.40 _ , another 20 minutes left. 

\---

He’s on another nightshift when he sees them again, Max and this Charles. The scene still plays out on the other side of the glass from him, but they seem a lot calmer this time around. He pauses the Netflix documentary his daughter had recommended him earlier and watches them carefully from behind his desk. The lights at the front door are casting shadows over the two men, making the bags under their eyes stand out so much more. They both have a bag slung over their shoulder, suitcases in between them as they talk. 

Charles’ shoulders are slumped, the man clearly exhausted and even from his distance Jacque can see his eyes widen as Max rests a hand on his shoulder, seemingly comforting him. His gaze falls down to the floor as he says something else, making him miss the little smile on Max’s face. With another squeeze of his hand Max lets go of Charles’ shoulder, the hand instead reaching out for the heavy suitcase in front of him. 

“Congratulations on the win again,” he can hear Charles say with a clearly French accent as Max unlocks the door, the bag almost slipping from his shoulder as he does so. 

“Thanks,” Max replies with a little smile. “See you in Hungary.”

Oh so this man was another driver? Maybe just some crew member, the two men sharing a lift home? He’s so deep in thought he almost misses Max’s soft  _ Good evening _ as he passes the front desk. 

“Bonsoir,” Jacque rushes out before Max disappears behind the closing elevator doors. 

\---

Jacque is on a morning shift the next time, he’s only just clocked in, time just gone  _ 9.00 _ , when he sees Charles again. He’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to see, the top of Charles’ hoodie up over his head, covering the brown locks underneath as he hurries from the elevator and out of the front door. It leaves him wondering what he’d missed by switching his night shift with Louis.

\---

He’s not meant to be there the next time he sees them, but Louis was out on vacation and Emile had called in sick earlier. He doesn’t really do proper night shifts anymore, he has that privilege now that he’s older, and without more than a quick 30 minute nap this afternoon, because of the little forewarning, he really wasn’t prepared for it, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. 

It’s almost  _ 5.00 _ when they burst in through the door, making him jolt up from his half asleep state. They’re stumbling a little and laughing as they try to keep each other up, clearly drunk. Max is wearing a t-shirt with dotted stripes on it, the big G-STAR spelled out on his chest in white, paired with some tight fitting black jeans, Charles contrasting him with a white Gucci shirt and ripped blue jeans. 

It’s been a while since Jacque has been out clubbing, him and Marie usually stick to the cozy pubs around Monaco nowadays, he remembers it well though the crowded clubs with their pounding music. He remembers how he would be sweating within minutes, bodies grinding against each other in a sweltering heat, how he’d be grateful for the reprieve of the bar, sipping on a drink slowly to try and cool down a little. It’s clear that they’d been out clubbing and not just had a quiet drink at a bar, their hair a sweaty mess, even after their commute back home, and he’s pretty sure he can see the stain of alcohol on Charles’ white t-shirt. It doesn’t seem to bother them though, their hands all over each other before they break into another fit of giggles. 

“Shh,” Max hisses, the only acknowledgement that they know someone’s there. He can see Charles glance his way but he quickly diverts his gaze from them. When he looks back up Max has pulled Charles over towards the elevator, the button lit up as he lets himself lean against the wall beside it to pull Charles against his body, his fingers finding the other man’s brown locks to twist into. Their lips have only just connected when the elevator beeps, the doors opening with a whoosh. They’re almost closing again by the time they finally remember where they are, Max pushing against Charles’ shoulders to get him to climb into the elevator, up to the safety of his own apartment and away from watchful eyes.

Oh to be young and in love again Jacque reminisces. He doesn’t really know how they’d gone from fighting on the front step of the building to drunkenly making out in the hallway within a month’s time, but the summer holidays definitely seemed to be helping. 

\---

When he sees them next it’s a Tuesday afternoon, he’s just finished off his lunch and has a fresh cup of coffee waiting for him, when the lift doors open revealing Max Verstappen. He’s wearing some simple grey joggers and a plain white t-shirt, hair a mess, like he’s only just woken up. He probably has, Jacque had only just clocked in when he’d seen Max arrive lugging a big black suitcase in behind him, looking exhausted. 

He nods quickly at the young Dutchman, about to ask him if he can help with anything when he sees Max move towards the front door, opening it up to Charles. He’d not even seen the other man, grey hoodie pulled up over his head, but as he walks through the now open door Jacque can clearly see how red his eyes are. 

“I should really just give you a key huh,” Max says softly a small smile playing on his face. Charles looks up at him, the faintest of smiles twitching on his face before his lips fall down again somberly. 

“Maybe,” he whispers, voice wavering as he does so, his hand coming up to wipe away the tears that have started to spill.

“Hey come here,” Max whispers, before pulling Charles into a hug, a similar somber expression on his face now. Charles’ nose is pressed into Max’s shoulder, his hands clenching into the back of his shirt tightly and the small sob he hears makes Jacque look away from the display, something clearly very personal. He hears Max shush Charles softly, soothing the other man as best as he can. 

They’ve gone quiet by the time Jacque dares to move his gaze towards them again, he can see Max wipe his thumb underneath Charles eyes softly, a wry little smile on his face. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Jacque watches them disappear into the elevator once more, like he’s seen so often now, but somehow can’t help but feel sad this time. For them, these two young men clearly having gone through something very hurtful, something they’re too young for. But, Jacque thinks, he’s glad they at least have each other, someone to go through it with. 

\---

He’s just sat down with his first cup of coffee of the day when he hears the front door buzzer go, the security footage blinking alive on his computer screen as well. He looks up across the desk and sees Charles standing on the other side of the glass door looking a little sheepish. He’s not seen the young man for a little while, Max arriving home alone last Monday only to be leaving again on Wednesday afternoon. 

“Hi, uhm I forgot my key, can you maybe buzz me in? You know who I am right, you’ve seen me here before?”

“Yes of course, come in Charles,” he replies quickly pressing the button, noticing the surprised look on Charles’ face as he realises Jacque knows his name. 

“Merci,” Charles smiles, balancing the box in his hands carefully as he pushes the door open,  _ l'Epi d'Or  _ spelled out on top of it in big letters. A paper bag in the other hand also emblazoned with the name of the boulangerie. He nods appreciatively at Charles. The young man flushes a little, “It’s his birthday,” he says, “I thought I’d surprise him with croissants and cake.” 

“Well don’t keep him waiting any longer then,” Jacques says, chuckling as he watches Charles eyes widen before he rushes towards the elevator, pressing the button repeatedly, the crackle of the paper bag echoing through the hallway. 

  
  
  


By now he knows that Charles is Charles Leclerc, Ferrari prodigy, and probably the last person that should be bringing Max Verstappen croissants and cake on his birthday, but who is Jacque to judge. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you could figure out which races the first two and last two scenes were related to.
> 
> As always kudos and comments make my little writers heart soar. And you can now find me on tumblr at [sleepyverstappens!](http://www.sleepyverstappens.tumblr.com) Prompts are always welcome as well :D


End file.
